


Bury the Day

by wendymr



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, episode-related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 04:39:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/618165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendymr/pseuds/wendymr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"I thought I could shake off the memory of that life once and for all."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bury the Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [uniquepov](https://archiveofourown.org/users/uniquepov/gifts).



> Written for Uniquepov. I was aiming for 500 words, in homage to your series, but it insisted on being longer, so 600 words precisely not counting the opening verse. With thanks to Lindenharp for BRing and very helpful suggestions.

_Time and the bell have buried the day,_  
The black cloud carries the sun away.  
Will the sunflower turn to us, will the clematis  
Stray down, bend to us; tendril and spray  
Clutch and cling? 

\- TS Eliot, _Four Quartets_ , published as a whole in 1943

 

He should have come in daylight. 

It’s hard to see much beyond shadows, and there are shadows aplenty, cast in shades of grey by the moonlit sky, and then disappearing as clouds drift across the moon. The house is still there, of course, and the front lawn and gravel driveway – though the light of his torch shows grass and weeds emerging through the stones. It’ll have been that way for a while; not much grows in December, even in southern England.

Of course,  
 _’tis an unweeded garden,_  
 _That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature  
Possess it merely._

The estate is in administration now, the Mortmaigne family having declared bankruptcy not long after Augustus and Scarlett were sentenced. Titus apparently disclaimed all interest and left things to the lawyers, while Selina is still fighting for what she considers her share. And, while they fight, the land and buildings crumble and decay day by day. 

By torchlight, he makes his way to the summerhouse, that building he couldn’t even enter on his previous visit. He stills, shining illumination on the abomination, and forgets to breathe.

Every window is smashed. The door has been kicked in. And inside... inside, the piano’s smashed and walls are covered with graffiti. 

_Pervert_

_Disgusting paedophile!_

_Burn in hell, child-molester_

_Blood of innocents on your hands_

_Top yourself or we’ll do it for you_

 

A footfall echoes behind him; James swings around, and is confronted with his governor, wrapped in a bulky anorak. “Sir! But how-?”

Lewis holds up his phone. “GPS tracking.”

James frowns. “But you don’t know how to...”

“Gurdip does.” 

James has no response. That his boss was concerned enough not only to come looking for him, but also to get help... Maybe he should resent it, but the anxiety – and caring – the moonlight reveals on Lewis’s face chases all resentment away. “Why?” he asks eventually.

Lewis shrugs. “You said you’d be at home. Came over to drag you out for a pint – thought we might’s well see in the new year together. When you weren’t in, I phoned your mobile, but you didn’t answer.”

His phone had rung, but he was driving. He’d forgotten to look at his missed calls. Still doesn’t explain why Lewis was so quick to track him down, and clearly his governor knows that. 

“Thought you’d seemed a bit more introspective than usual earlier. You’re not always–” Lewis hesitates, clearly choosing his words. 

James waves him on; Lewis deserves the right to speak his mind tonight.

“You don’t always... make the most rational decisions when you’re in that frame of mind.” His governor’s tone is gentle, non-judgemental, and something in James cracks.

“No,” he manages. “I came here... I think I thought I could shake off the memory of that life once and for all.”

Lewis just nods, and James wonders how much he knew, and how he’s stayed quiet all this time.

Lewis’s watch beeps. He starts, then moves closer to James and his arm comes to rest around James’s back. “It’s midnight. Start of a new year. Reckon it’s time, all right, if you can.”

James hesitates, then glances back at the summerhouse, once the home of such torment, and now a vandalised ruin. “Yes. Yes, I can. Thank you, sir.”

“Ah, none of that, man.” Lewis’s grip on him turns into a one-armed hug, and he turns to face his governor; the kindness he sees there encourages him, and he completes the hug.

In the distance, bells ring and fireworks explode.

“Let’s go home, James. Pubs are closed, but there’s beer at mine.”

 

 _The lines James quotes are from Hamlet, Act I Scene 2_.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Bury the Day by wendymr [podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044051) by [lorcalon (uniquepov)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/uniquepov/pseuds/lorcalon)




End file.
